No Return
by Crystal7
Summary: Paris and Helen talk after Hector's death at Achilles' hands. Based off the 2003 USA mini-series "Helen of Troy." You can read without having seen the mini-series, for it's close to the legends, save a few minor details.


Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am poor, making no money off this, please don't sue.  
  
Author's Note: While this is based off of the 2003 USA mini-series "Helen of Troy" you can read it without having to watch the series, because the series follows the well known legend and myth well enough.  
  
- No Return -  
  
Helen sat on the bed next to Paris and pulled him close to her, "Paris, I am so sorry."  
  
Paris lay his head down on her chest, "He died because of me."  
  
"That isn't so!" Helen protested. She kissed his head. "Hector died because Achilles had killed him. Not you. If anyone is guilty it is I."  
  
Paris sat up quickly, "No my love-"  
  
But Helen pushed a finger against his mouth, "If I had never come here, so many would not have perished and Hector would still be alive."  
  
Paris pushed Helen's golden hair and back and pulled her close, the two of them falling into the bed together, "My love, war would have come to Troy even if you had not come with me. Agamemnon would have waged war against Troy for one reason or another. You know that."  
  
Helen knew, but it still did not reliever her guilt. She faced her lover, their faces squished in the sheets on the bed. "Do you truly believe the gods have decreed all this so?"  
  
Paris rubbed his hand up down her bare arm, "Yes, truly. Athena has given us this love. This war, all of it, was prophesized before I was even born. It was written to be and now it is."  
  
"Somehow I wish I could go back and change these events. If I had never married Menelaus, I could have waited until you came for me, and now there would be no war, no pain, and dear Hector would still be with us."  
  
Paris pulled her tightly to him, "My dearest, this has all been decreed by the Gods. We cannot return to what was before and change it. We are merely tools of the Gods. Nothing more and nothing less. At least we have what we have."  
  
Helen kissed his nose, "We have found true love."  
  
Paris returned her kiss, by kissing her tenderly on the forehead, "Yes my love. No one can ever be as lucky as that."  
  
"But it is not luck, it is fate." Helen leaned back on her back in Paris' arms. "I wonder if Hector's death was decreed to be as it was by the Gods."  
  
Paris frowned, "I am not sure. It cannot be changed, even no matter how hard I try, pray, plead, or wish."  
  
Helen reached over and brushed away the small tear in the corner of his eye, "Hector died a noble death, at least. It is what he would have wanted."  
  
"I know," Paris said, "and despite the bad blood between us, we were certainly brothers and we were certainly friends. We were not friends, not until this war, and now I have lost him. My dearest brother."  
  
Helen said nothing. Hector had always been so kind to her. The entire royal family of Troy had been kind to her. Save Cassandra. Cassandra had every right to despite and hate Helen and Helen in no way resented her for it. It was deserved. "I wonder," she whispered, "if anyone has let Cassandra know dear Hector's fate."  
  
"She probably is already aware on her own," Paris said, with a shudder. His sister was always filled with prophecies and scary tales. She had spent the last ten years locked away in a dungeon, screaming insanities where no one could hear her.  
  
Helen stroked Paris's hair and felt his pain. Her poor dear. Paris's tears began to well in his eyes. The loss of his brother, his sister, and the loss of Troy. "Let it out my dear," Helen whispered. He could never weep in front of the royal family, or his subjects. Here alone, he was not Paris of Troy and she was Helen of Troy. They were not royals. Together they were just man and wife. He was Paris the Shepard, and she was Helen the girl.  
  
Helen's thoughts drifted to Hector. He had disliked her, but grown to love her as a sister and looked towards him as an older brother. He was much more of a brother to her than her own had ever been. Paris's tears soaked through Helen's dress but she took no notice. He wept for all that had been and all that would never be.  
  
Helen felt the own tears well up in her eyes. She would not weep. She had spent too many years crying. She would be strong, strong for the man she loved, more than any other. 


End file.
